He gave the last full measure of devotion without receiving recognition or promotion. Living on the muted end of a video call a dray horse working quietly in his stall until found back turned to a virtual door, glued to his chair, feet fixed to the floor, staring searchingly into the electric blue as if it could tell him what is true. A conch squeezed tightly in his shell bothering no one until he started to smell. His cramped cubicle was in the last row. It was a long way away so I would not go. Instead I sent work to him by email which he would respond to without fail but then there were unusual delays. To be fair, he'd been dead for two days staring into the vast electric blue as his work lined up in a virtual queue. Now the accountants have correctly said he shouldn't be paid for the days he was dead. So I hope his family won't give me flak when I call to get that money back. Accountants - they're not virtual or new. That's what I see inside the electric blue. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Omg I love it. Hilarious, dark and catchy πππ±
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Thanks very much.
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Far too many jobs feel like this! You’ve captured the situation to a T.
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Thanks, Liz.
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Wow, so clever and great rhyme too. I’ll be sharing this with hubby
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Thanks. I appreciate your kind words.
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Beautiful poem ! Well shared.π
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Thanks very much, Priti.
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